


A Glimpse of the Lost

by Paladin-Pile (UserFromPluto)



Category: Free!
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Poor bbys, just another fic where haru has terrible nighmares about ep.6, lots of tender touches, mako and haru really need each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 05:26:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6840691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UserFromPluto/pseuds/Paladin-Pile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haru took a gulping, sobbing breath and pulled the limp form slightly higher, pressing their foreheads together. </p><p>“No! Please, Makoto!” He wailed, broken voice echoing around the shoreline, “Don’t leave me, I love you! No, N-</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Glimpse of the Lost

 It was the silence that killed him.

 

 The wind was howling, the waves were crashing, and the rain pounded down into the sand, but Haru was deaf to it all. The only sound that mattered - the steady beating of Makoto’s heart below Haru’s ear- was absent.

  He jumped up from his friend’s chest and lurched forward, cradling Makoto’s head in his hands - the head that would drift to Haru’s shoulder when he was tired, and tilt slightly to the side when he smiled. Haru took a gulping, sobbing breath and pulled the limp form slightly higher, pressing their foreheads together. His arms ached from the long minutes of CPR, tasting the salt water on the others cold lips, pumping up and down on Makoto’s ribcage, trying to force the only heart he had ever loved to _just keep going_.

  Nothing had worked. Haru hugged the cold body of his best friend and cried. Cried until the hot tears ran down Makoto’s pale skin, mingling with the rain. Cried until his wracking sobs dislodged Makoto’s arm and made it fall lightly onto Haru’s lap. An invisible, merciless force crushed Haru’s heart and he shook with grief.

 _“No! Please, Makoto!”_ He wailed, broken voice echoing around the shoreline, _“Don’t leave me, I love you! No, N-_

  
   Haru awoke with a violent spasm, breathing hard like he had just swam a hundred laps. His cheeks were wet with tears, and when he opened his eyes it was mostly dark, only a faint glow of a night-light illuminating the room. _Makoto’s bedroom,_ Haru realized with a start. He was lying on a futon next to Makoto’s bed, and with a hammering heart Haru sat up and felt it. It was empty and cold, blankets untouched, and Haru began to shake again. _No, it can’t be. He’s really gone._

   Falling back on the futon, Haru curled up and wrapped his arms around his middle, trying to erase the feeling of Makoto’s cold skin under his hands. Grabbing his pillow, Haru buried his face into it and screamed with his entire soul.

   A few beats later the door flew open and Haru jumped, looking up with bleary eyes. There in front of him were Mr. and Mrs. Tachibana, both wearing their pajamas and matching expressions of pain. There were dark circles under their eyes, and devastating guilt sunk into Haru’s gut like a knife.

  Their son was gone. They must hate him, and rightly so. It was his fault their child had been taken from them so brutally. The tears began to flow again. Haru didn't bother to move, just lay there in a ball, shuddering with sobs. Why was he still alive if Makoto was dead? He would give anything for the gentle, green-eyed boy to be back, safe with his family.

  He didn’t see the worried looks Makoto’s parents shared as they rushed to him, but he did feel Mrs. Tachibana’s hands stroking his hair, his back, his arms. He cried harder, expecting her to push him away with disdain, maybe shout at him. His mind faintly registered the fact that he had not only lost Makoto, but likely also lost what little family he had left.

  “Oh no, honey, you still have us,” Makoto’s mother crooned, and Haru didn’t even remember speaking. What had he said? Warm arms wrapped around his trembling form and brought him to her chest, rocking him gently. He clutched at her sleeve and felt Mr. Tachibana putting his arms around both of them.

   “It’s my fault,” he sobbed, “I...I wish I was dead instead of him!” He heard a sharp intake of breath above him and suddenly he was being pushed back a bit, Makoto’s mother grabbing his face frantically.

   “Haruka, no! Baby, listen to me, nobody is dead! Makoto is fine, he’s alright. He was just reading the twins a bedtime story...” Haru tried to process her words, but his eyes were screwed shut and he couldn't breathe, fractured mind repeating _gone gone gone…_ Then, suddenly, _those_ hands were there, and _that_ voice was murmuring in his ear.

   “Haru, I’m right here. Breathe, it’s alright.”

   Haru felt himself being carefully taken from the couple’s embrace and moved slightly until his back was pressed against the side of the bed.

   “C’mon Haru, look at me.” His face was caressed with gentle touches, and everything in Haru screamed at him to not open his eyes, not to break the illusion that Makoto was here, a solid, warm weight against him. But the temptation was too great, and Haru forced open his eyes to see Makoto’s beautiful face inches from his own, shimmering green eyes filled with worry. Haru gasped, unable to do anything else, and Makoto’s cool hand brushed the damp hair from Haru’s face. “Haru, your fever’s gotten worse!” he exclaimed, now practically sitting in Haru’s lap, their chests pressed together. Makoto must have read something in Haru’s wide eyes, because he leaned in and touched their foreheads together. Gently, he brought his hands up to cup the back of Haru’s head, threading his fingers through the silky hair.

  “Haru,” Makoto said quietly, breath flitting across the smaller boy’s face. As the word was spoken Haru could feel the vibrations through his own chest, feel their hearts beating together, and was surprised to find he had more tears to cry. Makoto kissed his forehead, then his cheek.

  “Makoto,” Haru managed to finally say, voice soft and cracking, and threw his arms around Makoto’s broad shoulders. Curling into his friend’s warm _, living_ body, he buried his face in the taller boys neck, soaking his collar with tears, whimpering that single word over and over. “Makoto, Makoto, _Makoto.”_

 “Shh, Haru-chan, it’s alright,” Makoto soothed, and a cool wet cloth was placed on Haru’s head. “It was just a dream, I’m here.” Tenderly, as if Haru was something delicate, Makoto moved the blue-eyed boy to his lap and cradled him like a child. At any other time Haru would protest at the treatment, but now he didn't care. Shifting his head slightly, he stared at Makoto, unblinking. From his current position he could see his defined jaw and the side of his face, softly lit by the room's light. Makoto looked down and met his gaze, and for some time Haru just started, drinking in the reassurance in those deep, emerald eyes. Slowly, he reached up and lightly touched Makoto’s face, then his neck and shoulders, slowly running his hand down the strong arm. Finally, his palm came to a stop just above Makoto’s heart. Slowly, Haru felt his anguish wash away with the steady beat and he closed his eyes, the last thing he heard before drifting off to sleep was Makoto’s soft whisper.

  “I’m never leaving you, Haru-chan.”

 

…..

 

  Makoto continued to hold Haru until his eyes closed and his breathing evened out. Only then did he tip back his head to stare at the ceiling, letting a few tears of his own slip out.

  “Is he asleep?” His mother asked from the doorway. Makoto glanced down and nodded. She approached and settled down beside them, kissing Makoto’s hair and stroking Haru’s.

   “I was scared. He looked so broken.” Makoto whispered.

  “He loves you, more than you know,” she replied. “I think you’ve gotten a glimpse of what would happen to him if you did die.”

   “It’s been months since that happened, I thought...he seemed to be ok,” Makoto stammered.

  “The fever probably made the nightmare more vivid, and also made him a bit delirious even when he woke up,” she reasoned, squeezing his shoulder. “He’ll be alright, son. Why don’t you both get into bed.”

   Makoto nodded and moved them both over to Haru’s futon, feeling too drained to make it up to his own bed. He arranged their bodies comfortably, and gathered the sleeping Haru closer to him. The smaller boy’s breathing was peaceful, and he was soft and warm in Makoto’s arms.

   As tired as he felt, Makoto couldn't seem to go to sleep just then. His eyes remained open and he gazed absentmindedly over Haru’s head, fingers gently playing with the soft black hair.

  He allowed his mind to wander back to that fateful day and tried to imagine every scene, fearful as it was. What if it had been Haru that had tried to save Rei? What if Makoto himself was the one to drag Haru’s unconscious body from the black waves, not knowing whether a life that meant more to him than his own had been extinguished. Makoto’s blood ran cold at the thought. Another memory, one of Haru as a child lying motionless on the edge of a river, flashed unbidden before his mind and Makoto knew, knew without a doubt, that he would have been absolutely devastated.

   A life without Haru? Makoto was sure such a thing did not exist, at least not for him. Haru’s violent reaction to his nightmare didn’t seem drastic anymore. He recalled the panic and helpless grief he saw in Haru’s eyes when finally opened them, and now, he understood. Makoto’s heart clenched and he brought one of his hands down to Haru’s, intertwining their fingers. Squeezing lightly, he gazed at the sleeping face beside his own.

   “I’ll always be there for you,” he whispered, so quietly the words barely drifted between them, “As long as your heart beats, so does mine.”

 

   “I love you, Haru.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> *sticks hand out of self-dug grave*...follow me on tumblr @utsukushin D':


End file.
